Sweet love, sticky sorrow
by Fate4Destiny
Summary: One shot with Papa! France and Chibi! Canada. Canada discovers maple syrup, France copes without England. FrUk.


**Sweet love, sticky sorrow**

**Summary: A fluff one shot with Papa! France and Chibi! Canada. Canada discovers maple syrup among other things. FrUk. **

**A/N: human names are used.**

**Matthew - Canada**

**Francis - France**

**Arthur - England**

Matthew sat still as his bickering parents fought. He watched the Englishman slam something down and storm off. He heard the front door bang close and it made a shiver of fear go down the young boy's spine. Matthew looked up with sad eyes as his father glided into the room, arms crossed and eyes burning in hate.

"And he calls himself a parent, damned Angleterre."

Matthew's young eyes went wide at such mean word- or as mean as the child had heard before. His father didn't stop moving and went straight into the kitchen. Matthew heard some loud noises in the kitchen and some angry French curses arise.

The boy shuffled towards the room, a favourite to Francis. He watched the Frenchman whip ingredients together with such a speed and grace that he wanted to help.

He walked over to Francis, tugging lightly on his black apron wrapped around his waist. Francis waved him away dismissively without thinking about it.

The Canadian retreated to the dining room and climbed onto a chair. Clasping the walnut wood and dragging himself up he sat down with hints of pride. The first time he sat up on a normal height chair without Francis's help. Though he doubted the Frenchman would notice. He usually retreated from reality when he was in these moods. The moods which were becoming much more frequent, following how many times Arthur and him fought these days.

Matthew heard some more loud noises in the kitchen and each one made him jump a little. He sat in complete silence, not wanting to face Francis's anger directly.

Soon he saw a plate placed in front of him. He saw waffles with a wild berry sauce. Francis sat across from him with a cup of coffee, nursing the warm liquid. After a few moments Matthew pushed back the plate. Francis looked up with questioning eyes, his son usually had an appetite.

"Matthieu, cheri, is something the matter?"

"Oui, Papa. Won't Mama get hungry? He can't cook."

Francis took a slow sip of his coffee and looked at his worried son. Such a cute innocence, Arthur would have probably been insulted...

"Mama est compétent. Mai il y a très stupide."

Matthew bowed his head then slowly pierced a strawberry slice, trying to be a good kid. Before eating it he watched his father pour some alcohol into his coffee cup. Francis took a few gulps then rubbed his head as if he had a headache. His eyes misted over and Matthew spoke in a soft voice.

"Papa, do you like cooking?"

"Oui, pourquoi?"

"Aucune raison..."

Matthew tried very hard to draw his focus to the strawberry, but he felt sick to his stomach and wanted fresh air. The last thing he wanted to do was insult his father in anyway, but maybe it'd be best his father was left alone.

"Can I play outside?"

Francis didn't even look up as he stared into the depths of his cup. His voice was sad and sullen, making Matthew feel even worse.

"Allez. But be careful. I'm not in any mood to rescue your polar bear from another tree. Remind him he's not a honey hear."

"D'accord."

Matthew slipped out of his chair at Francis's stricter-than-usual voice. Francis watched him with misted over eyes. He was much closed to losing his son to Arthur this time. He gave a small sniffle which he tried his best cover up. He shouldn't worry such an innocent child.

Francis stood up, looking in a dismay at the untouched food. Usually, Matthew would eat anything sweet. With a deep sigh he decided to clean up later, when he felt in a better mood.

France sat down at an easel to distract him but his heart wasn't in it. He didn't want to deal with perfection at the moment. His fingers brushed past the paintbrushes which were flooded with memories. Too many times did he paint his lover or his family all in smiles.

He let his gaze travel, trying to free his mind from the mentioned lover. His eyes landed in the living room to find a box of crayons, the swirl of colours vivid in his richly decorated home.

The crayons were strewn over the low table he bought for Matthew along with a messy stack of papers. Matthew became inspired after visiting some art museums. The downside was that the boy tended to only draw landscape. [1] Francis himself preferred actual people to express beauty.

Francis picked up a green crayon and began drawing a set of eyes. He let his worries go away as he focused on the picture. After half an hour or so it became painfully clear who he was drawing. His hand shook slightly and he dropped the green object, roughly wiping a tear away. He promised when he became a father he wouldn't cry. He'd be that hero and idol his son looked up to. He'd be there for his son, not the other way around. And Arthur was the one threatening to change that.

Francis began shredding the paper, hoping Arthur could feel each and every tear or rip. He needed something easier to draw, something to relate to a bit of numbness in his mind.

He picked up a red crayon, well worn and used, unlike the other colours, and found himself drawing a tree. It was much less stressful than drawing faces. Maybe that's why Matthew preferred it.

After some failed attempts of drawing a maple leaf he switched to a blue and gold pencils. He settled with the fleur-de-lys. [2] It came natural to him and he let his hand lazily go over the page, his mind blank.

When he ran out of paper he realized he hadn't seen his Canadian in awhile. He stood up, more energetic once worry flooded him. He mentally cursed himself for neglecting the youth as he tugged on a jacket. What if something happened? He was so young and naïve, somethings doing foolishly stupid things for the sake of others.

He closed the door quickly behind him then looked around.

"Matthieu! Cheri, where are you? This isn't time for games!"

Francis shouted out but was only answered by the howling winds. He should have at least checked the weather before letting Matthew run off like that. A faint voice began filling his head. What if Matthew had been like Arthur? What if neither were coming back? But Matthew was the one who needed his protection. It wasn't anybody's fault but the Frenchman's if the young boy would never come back. Just like Arthur said, it was his bloody fault.

Francis sniffled again, trying to be strong for himself and his son who he hoped would be nearby. He strode quickly across the yard, his hair and jacket whipping around in the wind. Past the yard there were rows of trees, slowly leading towards a dense forest. This was where his son and pet loved to play the most.

Through a flurry of bright autumn leaves he saw a smear of white. Following it, he came across a sleeping polar bear. His son was was curled up next to it, also asleep. Francis let a small smile slip on his lips as he picked Matthew up. He was surprised when the small boy wrapped his arms around him. It wasn't the hug though, but the fact his son was coated in some sort of sticky fluid.

"Matthew, quoi est ce que?"

Francis murmured the words to a now somewhat awake Canadian. They were dripping of amusement and happiness, unable to become angry after worry of having lost the boy.

"I was hungry..."

"You shouldn't eat that though. It's unclean and-"

"It's sweet! Arthur makes me have pine sap when I'm sick and it's disgusting. This one is sweet."

Francis slowly looked away at the mention of his lover's name. He never wanted to see that Englishman again, but if he had to be honest and push past his emotions, he owed some to Arthur. After all, he was the one who gave Canada a complete family, not just the boy relying on his sometimes drunk and overly flirtatious father. Arthur offered a stable home, discipline, all things which his son would need. Though red wine and ladies never hurt~

Francis looked up at the maple tree and felt his body stop tensing completely. _D'accord_, he thought, it was the one sweet sapped tree he owned. The one who fit his son so well.

"You know it take ages to wash away, right?"

Francis sounded amused as he softly prodded the polar bear with the tip of his boot. The bear yawned and slowly got to it's feet, willing to follow. Once there, Francis turned and began walking back towards his house.

"I know."

Matthew's voice was hardly heard from drowsiness, causing Francis to miss it over the rustle of leaves. Matthew snuggled more into his father- and coated him in more syrup in the process.

"Honhonhon."

Francis gave a deep laugh befofe carrying his som back home. It was just like the Canadian to only be so messy when he was asleep. Francis could just about hear the apologies which would surely come later. That boy tended to be overly polite. Until then, he'd try not to die by cuteness.

Francis meanwhile buried his own head into the silky blond hair much like his own. Everything, he decided, had a down side. Like that angleterre's abrupt leaving or stickiness of the maple sap. But where was also a bright side. And his bright side was sleeping in his arms, unknowingly upstaging all the sweetness the sap could ever have.

As he kissed Matthew's forehead he softly closed his eyes. It was truly sweet...

**[1] there's a group of 7 artists who were famous. They were Canadian and mostly drew landscape...**

**[2] the former royal arm of France. An European iris. Originall drawn in gold on a blue background.**

**French translations: **

***most of this comes from a few year old memories. My apologies if it's incorrect. **

***in order they come into the story**

**Angleterre: French term for England**

**Matthieu: French for Matthew**

**cheri: kind of like mon cher, which means my dear.**

**Oui: yes**

**Papa: father/ daddy**

**Mama est compétent: mom is capable**

**Mai il y a très stupide: but he's very stupid**

**Oui, pourquoi?: yes, why?**

**Aucune raison...: no reason...**

**Allez: go**

**D'accord: okay/ of course**

**quoi est ce que?: what is it?**


End file.
